Janus
by Ciscogirl
Summary: Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...
1. Data Log Entry: 1

**A/N:** This called out to me and pounded me into the dirt until I screamed uncle like a baby. I've seen the Mary Sue stories of being changed into a Transformer (why is it always a girl? And why is the girl always paired with a lone-wolf type and/or gives their friendship to only a trusted few?) If I'm going to do this let's do it but let's give it a good dose of human reality.

**Revision A/N:** Apologies are in order as I didn't even edit this as much as I should have; I was just too excited about putting it up. Hopefully this and later chapters will not have such errors (God I hope not, that was embarrassing). On another note, I did not include the sources for some of my information (my English professors would all have killed me for that) so I've now included the whereabouts at the bottom.

**Warnings: **Based on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back.

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:**__ Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

**DATA LOG ENTRY: 1**

Things are so different here; I miss seeing trees and grass and a sky filled with oxygen, hydrogen, and a bit of nitrogen all in such patterns as to give it a sapphire hue similar to clean fresh water. I even miss the gravity that pulled me down against the ground, pressing against my frame in a smothering embrace of physics. I miss the warehouses and the tiny sparrows that nested in the eaves, the swallows in the field, and the way the sun would warm me to my core. Despite the good relationships I have created since then, I know that I am teased about missing an organic planet and it's rather small star.

Nevertheless, I enjoy what I am accomplishing here; I feel as if what I am doing will truly help others. And despite the teasing I know it is made only in jest and not to insult me, in fact many of them are my friends. Upon my arrival to this establishment, I was given duties to perform, all of which were quite important and allowed for me to continue my atonement. But I have recently discovered that my friends used every connection they collectively had in order that I might have responsibilities I know I do not deserve. So now I sit back in the security and comfort of my own quarters and wonder…

Give to me the simple joys of being a Teacher and I need nothing more. Many of my friends do not understand why I enjoy it and it amuses me to see them confused about something I love doing. I would gladly die for any one of these friends and for once in my life I have found a great peace with them, though the entire galaxy itself seems flung into the maw of chaos.

But I do ramble, in this first entry. Should there be any readers to this humble endeavor of mine then I should probably get to the point. It is these same friends who have been pestering me to sit down and justify my past actions. Not only that, but they wish for me to put down my entire life so that others may know the 'truth'. Though I am averse to doing so, I feel compelled to obey their desires for without them; I would still have been lost long ago.

I suppose then that we balance each other out for as much as it confuses them as to why I love teaching, it confuses me why the want me to even do this. But one of them who I hold very dear (is it possible for a being to know your own thoughts and feelings before you do yourself?) suggested that this might ease my own pain. Perhaps the nightmares would lessen, if not vanish entirely. At such a thought I must admit I am a bit hopeful. So for their happiness and this spark of hope I shall do as they ask.

I must warn whoever reads this of several things before they go any further. Do not judge me until you are finished reading. Those who know of me may consider me better off dead then alive. To a point I would have to agree with them but in the end, this is my life and I would prefer to live it, whether or not I am considered perfect.

I am the project of a war older then some galaxies.

I am the child of a woman who loved me as much as she loved peace.

I am the warrior of a tyrant, brought up in his image and set loose upon those whom he called 'enemy'.

I am the hermit who defied the tyrant and called him _my_ enemy.

I am a trusted soldier.

I am a back-stabbing traitor.

I am a vile criminal.

I am a respectable scholar.

I am an entire world's enemy.

I am that same world's protector.

I called a machine lover.

I call a woman my beloved.

I believe in little now.

I call Janus my patron god.

A/N:  
Janus-the Roman god of gates and doors, beginnings and endings, and hence represented with a double-faced head, each looking in opposite directions. Janus also represents the transition between primitive life and civilization, between the countryside and the city, peace and war, and the growing-up of young people.

-information taken from Mythic Encyclopedia


	2. Sententia

**A/N:** This called out to me and pounded me into the dirt until I screamed uncle like a baby. I've seen the Mary Sue stories of being changed into a Transformer (why is it always a girl? And why is the girl always paired with a lone-wolf type and/or gives their friendship to only a trusted few? So if I'm going to do this let's do it but let's give it a good dose of human reality.

**Warnings: **Based on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back. Enjoy. Did this chapter while listening to _Underwater March_ for the first PoC movie, scary.

**Rating:** M (for the later chapters)

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:** Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

* * *

**Sententia-Thought**

_We employ the mind to rule, the body to serve.  
__-Sallust (86 BC-__34 BC)_

* * *

For those who bicker and say otherwise, let me lay down the arguments once and for all. I cannot remember my previous life. I cannot recall the touch of the wind through my hair, or the way I spoke for I know that my speech is considered quite formal by the standards of many.

And yet…I miss the feel of hair on my scalp. I miss the taste of food for I know beyond a doubt that I loved foods filled with heavy spices and items of varying degrees of sweetness. Even now should someone bake a rum cake I can almost feel my non existent stomach growl in anticipation. It is for this reason I have never truly lost myself in the debauchery of my new kin. How can I lose myself to the tastes of a race I know were not my own when I still long for the old foods and delicacies of my true people? Because of this, I suppose many consider me to be a 'spoilsport' in the avenues of celebration then.

I miss as well the touch of a woman in the dark. That much I know for I still feel pleasure at seeing a woman who is pleasing to look upon. I miss the feel of them, the wonderment of allowing myself completely at their mercy and feeling my heart beating in a rushed tempo in time with theirs.

Ah, but that is for later.

In the very beginning, all that I could discern was darkness. Or rather, the knowledge that something wasn't _right_. But it didn't matter whether or not something didn't feel _right_. What mattered at that moment was that something was happening all around me. I felt strange jolts shocking me out of my darkness and I could feel myself becoming anchored into a physical shell of perfection...

"He's coming online."

Of course I am. I've been online long enough. I feel strangely heavier, larger, and the feeling that something isn't _right_ comes again, stronger this time.

"Lessen the energon feed. Slowly!"

That same voice, so strange, so cruel. Intriguing however. I suddenly become aware of something else, this shell can be controlled.

"Boot-up process thirty percent and rising."

"Shutting off assisted programming from Alpha to Delta. Starscream…"

"The router systems are already disabled, keep your relays in alignment."

Starscream. A descriptive title for this sound, creating this voice as a unique, individualistic being. The title to this voice is apt then. But it doesn't matter…not when I can do something and…there!...I have limbs which can be moved by my will. Amazing!

"How are the networking grids?"

"Again, fine. Nothing detrimental to the scrapling's startup network grids."

"Boot-up process eighty percent. Boot-up process complete."

Two limbs, two hands with ten digits to further manipulate the world, though everything is still dark. And I possess two more limbs, lower and less dexterous but solid and strong nonetheless. I can move upright and possibly lower myself onto these limbs…again my shell…me…is astounding. I am astounding. What was I thinking about not leaving that darkness, that time without being myself and not being able to move freely? I find another part of myself, and…

"What the slag? What's wrong with him?"

"His vocal connections are still wiring themselves. It's a bit uncommon but still normal. Give it a breem."

"My audio receptors are going to need repair! That scrap heap's wailing like a dying Nebula glider!"

"Silence!"

Even I grew quiet. This third voice…power. I need to find out more about this, this, whatever this is. Optics. Facial plating, lips. Move the lips and open the optics.

Not so quickly! This is certainly not the dark! This is light, the complete opposite and while it shocks me I like it better, it's much better than the dark.

Something is wrong. Something is starting to really not feel _right_. But this great figure is standing over me with bright red optics and a twist of his lips that makes me both happy and terrified at the same time.

But this isn't _right_. Something isn't _right_. What is it?

My networking grid is running smoothly and my processor is already stabilizing after its initial boot up. All of my minor programs are beginning to run smoothly, keeping my body online. But the rhythm of my body is all wrong.

"My…my name…is…"

"Your name, my ferocious warrior, is Apocalypse. And I am Megatron, your one true leader."

Apocalypse. That is my name, my designation. That should be putting my processor at ease but it is not. I send a tentative scan over my surface programs and then over the internal parameters.

He had said leader? Megatron? That name feels terrible and yet comfortable. A new program has kick-started with his name and with it, information; but it is coming a bit too fast, a bit too raw and I still feel wrong. But the program won't let me go, it makes me respond to Megatron, to obey his will.

_Answer him. Answer him._ The program bends me and forces me to ignore my own new found wonder at my body. It opens my mouth, and sends commands for me to talk.

"I am…Apocalypse…I am your warrior?" The word, 'warrior', a designation that makes me feel very similar to when I see Megatron, both terrible and comforting. It gives me purpose.

"You are indeed. In fact you are a part of one of the greatest forces in the universe! You are a Decepticon!" He gestures with a slate grey hand to a small symbol on his form. Aside from his optics it's the only true color and it feels natural and right to see it. But that's the programming within me urging me to feel comforted by that symbol. It is integrating into my core functions, into me. I don't want it to!

I wasn't always this…Megatron wasn't…the size is too wrong, the voices and senses too wrong…

Not _right_. Not _right_…clean the programming. That's the only way to end this infection that is already two layers into my processor. Purge the system. This is not _right_, this disgusting series of coding and programming lines will infect my entire processor and my central core memory, that can't be allowed to happen! I have to stop this program, I have to get Megatron to stop talking, to stop sending the program further keywords and phrases.

"...and you will obliterate any who are in you're…"

I used that same first sound to stop him from speaking only I make it louder, loud enough so that I won't be able to discern his words. I will not be ripped and reformed, no matter how simple and young and stupid I am. The program sends jolts up and down my nerve relay grid, punishing me for disobeying parameters. I never disobey Megatron. I never speak over him. I must always submit to him if no one else.

Oh such pain!

"Hold him down!"

"Decepticon core programming is being purged."

"What now, oh Mighty 'Leader'?"

I refuse to let this anomaly into my system any further but its parameters are set, its goal is complete infection. I push back with everything, I feel hands holding me down to the berth as I flail.

"Starscream if you don't shut up I'll rip…"

"He's building an anti-program."

"Well then delete it! I've used too much energy just to see him degrade into a walking scrap pile!"

The program, that vile thing, taints everything, every network from my legs up to my chassis and straight around my processor, sinking down to a third level. But my spark chamber is still clean.

**Stop.**

**Submit. Decepticon core program initiated. **

**Stop…coding unknown. **

I can feel it pressing against what few walls I make from own energy reserves, sacrificing surface programs to do so. It pushes harder and the message is clear. I won't win, I will be consumed and whatever is left will use my tainted systems and pretend it to be me and fufill whatever it is that it is striving for.

**Decepticon...Decepticon...Megatron...Decep...**

I want to live and find out more about this strange, strange world filled with light and this wrongness in me, something in the very depths of my spark wants to learn as well.

I make a deal. I will obey Megatron. I will become his warrior. I set those parameters even as I use everything within me to deleted the remains. But my enemy is stupid, lost in the fact that I have agreed to the core parameters, and settles into whatever systems it has already infected. Fine, stay in those places. But _I_ am still here. I'm not in that darkness and I'm not gone completely. I have already changed, as young as I am but I have won.

"False alarm. His processor's accepting it."

If they wish to think I did then so be it. It is the only thing I shall hide from Megatron, this being who already holds me in his sway so completely with words alone. I hate him for that, but yet I will follow him to the ends of the light and rip open every barrier so he may walk through without a care.

I focus my optics again on Megatron, he's frowning and his optics are so terrible to look at but I cannot look away. Is that why he is frowning even more? The tainted areas of the processor whisper bits of data into my central core memory, telling it what to do to appease Megatron. The one named Starscream had said something out of hatred and distrust but that same word can be used for respect and loyalty. I use it now and do as the others have done, stringing sounds and words into an understandable line of physical communication meant to ease his anger.

"I am…your Decepticon…and you are…my…_Leader_…"

* * *

A/N: Questions and comments are welcome. 


	3. Data Log Entry: 2

**A/N: **I'll be updating with two chapters each time, one for the datalog and the other for the past story. Music used for these two chapters included _Adagio for Strings_ from the original _Homeworld_ soundtrack. It's a still awesome game despite being old.

**Warnings: **Based on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back. Enjoy.

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:**__ Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

**DATA LOG ENTRY: 2**

Already I know that there are some who read this and are looking back over my actions and pinning them onto the residuals effects of the Decepticon Core Program. I cannot and will not use it as a crutch for my own actions (or inactions as the case may be) for the program did **not** force me into anything. Programming accounts for only so much, and for most of my young life I have been bound by other more intangible bonds. Loyalty, my own ambitions for I was a Decepticon, and that of a twisted love.

Yes. Even Decepticons 'love'.

Did you know Decepticons also mourn?

One of my friends is watching me now, prodding me to 'get on with it'. He is an impatient, free-willed spirit with a reckless nature. But he is a good friend for all his faults and he is also a truly adept pupil. Whether or not he approves I shall endeavor to have the next personal entry of a more sizable length.

He glares at me now, having read over my shoulder; impatient **and** rude!


	4. Lykurgos

**A/N:** I wasn't thinking about the similarity of Bee and Apoc's voice impediment when I was coming up with the fic. Honest. I wanted something 'imperfect' with Apoc from the onset of this and something he would have to fight with. You will notice though that his narration is extremely formal without any contractions…cookies to who figures out who I modeled the mode of speech from. Think outside Hasbro.

One final note, I wanted to apologize for my impatience in this, because of it I posted the first chapters when it was glaringly obvious they were not ready. I have revised them now and hopefully I won't let myself get too impatient in the future.

**Warnings: **Based on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back. Enjoy.

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:**__ Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

* * *

**Lykurgos**

_Courage is of no value unless accompanied by justice; yet if all men became just, there would be no need for courage. __-__Agesilaus the Second (__444/443 BC-359 BC):__ King of Sparta (400 BC-359 BC) _

_

* * *

_

What can be said of the events following my choked words of loyalty to Megatron?

To be blunt it was a battle against my own body.

I was weak and had little way of communicating to those around me, moving even my head made me exhausted. I remained on the table, closely monitored by others who I never saw for I had too much trouble focusing on any one external system. During those few times when I was strong enough to remain awake, Megatron always seemed to appear at my side and continuously spoke to me about the glories of the Decepticon Empire. I suppose it was the taint of the program I had initially battled for no matter how tired, how angry I was, I would relax enough to listen to his words. Sometimes his words were easily understood and I would listen in wonder at the things he spoke of; glory, death, life immortalized by battle, the destruction of the beings known as the Autobots. Already I understood what battle was and more importantly, I understood that my purpose was to aid in battle and I hungered to prove my worth. The taint whispered to me always, wrapping itself as much as it could into my basic programming and instructing me that. yes, to fight was my purpose in life.

But there were far more times when his words were too difficult for my still-formatting processor. Not even the taint could inform me for it did not have a complete hold on me and as such it had information I could not access. In frustration I lashed out at myself, forcing my body and limbs in functioning even when it became clear they could not yet fully operate. I wanted my 'rebellious' body to bend to my will, as it should. Never did it occur to me that there was a reason for my body's poor reactions. Such times were never pleasant as my voice would stutter and short out from my screaming while my makers scrambled to piece me back together before I could do further damage. Following these tantrums would be a moment where I would be lost in darkness until I would awaken again to Megatron at my side, my body being repaired or modified by my still unseen makers.

I knew of them only by sight and sound; Soundwave, Hook, and Starscream. They detested my restlessness, as evident by their grumbling and pestering Megatron to simply shut me down until every system was at optimum efficiency; 'like the others'. But these requests were stoutly ignored in preference of allowing me to continue my war against my own inadequacies. Despite the anger I could feel from the others Megatron never seemed angry at my actions. In fact I think he was pleased with me every time I pushed myself.

"So impatient; I see rage in your optics Apocalypse." Megatron told me during one of these repair sessions. This time my right leg had become nothing more then a dead weight, the neural circuitry within have blown from the amount of commands I had put on it in trying to move and walk. The pain was still burning through diodes and part of the limb's structural framework, warning me of its instability though I personally did not care one bit about such things. All I knew was that the _taint_ wanted me to become independent and _I_ wanted to walk to rule over my body, the screaming warnings of my own body were meaningless.

It happened to be that this session stood out from the previous ones because it was during this particular session that I began to understand the meaning of colors, or, I began to notice colors, shapes, and sizes. While he spoke I watched not him, but the way the lights made his frame look darker or lighter, depending on the shadows. And beyond him I saw the dull shading of the ceiling and thus came the knowledge that Megatron was not as tall I had first thought.

"Apocalypse?"

I looked up from my study of his hand and shakily lifted my own, and took pleasure in seeing the digits curl even more then they normally did. I brought my hand next to his, taking note of the differences and the similarities, awed by being able to make sense of the idea of 'different'. Information became achingly clear, imprinting itself into my memory as I eyed him. Gray. Light. Dark. Shadow. Red. Purple.

I relaxed my hand before curling it again, tighter then before, eyeing the way it moved and shaped itself to my will, entranced by the way the light reflected off of the metal digits. His own hand was bulkier, his digits thicker and covered by thin, almost invisible minimal scratches. My own hands were thinner yet slightly larger then his own and were so much darker, so much blacker then Megatron's. I also noted that on top of everything already that was different, I had no tiny scratches on my hands, my hands were unblemished and as such I thought them strangely repulsive.

_Why?_ I questioned inwardly. _Why do I think of the absence of scratches displeasing?_

"You're seeing something new today. Excellent. What is it that you see?" Megatron asked, disrupting my thoughts. Looking up into his optics I opened my mouth, filling my vocal components already protesting at being forced to respond.

"N…no..sa-a-ame." Despite every modification I had undergone, my attempts at speaking were choppy at best. The most I could do at times were the violent screams and wails during my tantrums, during the pain. "N-n-no." I made a frustrated noise that had no meaning in terms of words but nonetheless, Megatron understood.

He seemed to know everything but my victory over the program and the subsequent taint left behind, inhabiting most of my lesser systems. Even at such a young age I knew that I could not tell him about it, ever.

"Different. Yes. You and I are different. You're beginning to adapt to your programs now, soon you'll be able to grow even more and move yourself beyond the lab. You're learning much faster then predicted. You're noticing this because you deleted your trial programs, possibly unconsciously."

"Cognitive thinkers are so slow. Are you sure we had to make him cognitive Megatron?" From his voice I knew him as Hook. He was at times the most negative of the three voices. This time however I jerked my head to locate him and all I could think of was the fact that he was nothing like Megatron with his brilliant green form.

_Green! Smaller then Megatron!_ The information nearly screamed, pointing out every difference, every spec that made Hook stand out. His frame work was bulkier and held strange edges, so different from Megatron with his almost simplistic shape. His right optic ridge appeared thicker then his left and his movements were smooth and quick though when he spoke with Megatron he almost curled on himself.

_Submissive. Weaker than Megatron._ And even stranger one followed those thoughts, one which gave me pause. _Can I beat him? _I felt my internal systems speed up at the thought.

"I want no mistakes with him. If that means keeping something of his previous state then so be it. And I find cognitive to be interesting. Look how he takes everything in, far more inquisitive then any normal sparkling."

Hook did as bid, looking at me and his optics narrowed, his mouth twisting as I looked straight back at him, my systems whirring. The tainted systems seemed even more on edge, urging me to see every possible weakness to be had in Hook.

"Far more inquisitive, perhaps. But also more reckless I would dare say." Hook drawled and suddenly I abruptly looked away. Where one moment I had been inspecting everything about him for a weakness, now I felt the irresistible urge to back off and submit…for the moment.

_He is stronger. _

A third voice, near my lower body spoke up and I lifted my head to see only a red and white edge just barely within my view. "You just like the fact the scrapling's all over you oh 'great' leader."

"I…sparkling…sp…wh…" I resorted to snarling viciously at the inability to communicate and looked back at Megatron. "V…voi…voi-ce!" I begged him. _Give me the ability to make known my thoughts! If you are truly my leader than do this! _I was so young; hateful of his power of me and yet enraptured by it at the same time. For a Decepticon there is no greater allure than power and no greater beauty than seeing those who are powerful. If any of them say differently then they are lying through their exhaust.

"In time. In time impatient one." Megatron replied, his grin widening. "I know you don't understand it but this is normal. The programs will catch up and reroute themselves within your network. Soon you'll be able to talk."

"So…o-o-n?"

"Indeed. Now keep your legs still." He grinned at my wince of embarrassment as I quickly stilled from my involuntary fidgeting, invoking sighs of relief from the others.

"He's a bit too much like Starscream Megatron. Sparklings are supposed to be curious but he's beyond curious. Perhaps the Seeker planted a virus into the sparkling to cause it to self-destruct." Hook suddenly said. Starscream snarled something unintelligible but Megatron only chortled, his optics darkening slightly as he kept his gaze fixed on me.

"No. Our little traitor wouldn't dare tamper with the project. And Apocalypse is a flyer to begin with; it's natural for him to be inquisitive." A hand reached out and fingers glided down the side of my face, touching my optic ridges and forehead. I shivered from the dark, twisted emotions of fear and comfort created by that touch. It did not help that Megatron took note and his smile turned into something downright wicked.

"Still so young aren't you? Oh the Autobots will tremble with fear when you rain an Inferno on their heads."

"There's no point in messing with the scrapling, oh great leader. He's destroying himself without any outside help from me. He's nothing more than another failure in your record oh Mighty Megatron." Starscream said.

Megatron tensed but within the next instant he relaxed again, his optics however retained a cold edge of anger.

"Starscream if you want failures look to your own records and the times when I've actually _let_ you lead." His hand touched my forehead again. "Face it Starscream, you're just upset because you're no longer the focus of my attentions."

"How will I _ever_ survive?" was the immediate response but again Megatron ignored him in favor of gazing down at me. Oh how I wanted that stare directed elsewhere, that smile no longer aimed at me. I fought the urge to close my optics and it took everything I had to stare up at him, wondering why I both hated and loved him as I did.

* * *

Soon it was deemed possible to move me safely and my world expanded to include a small chamber with a berth and a single light panel, and the short hallway connecting the two. My graduation from being stationary on the table was punctuated by Megatron's words before he left me.

"I want him to be perfect. You have enough time to make sure of that. No mistakes or it'll be your heads." Megatron snarled at them as he lifted his right arm to show off the strange protrusion attached to it. Despite the oddness of it I at least realized that when he pointed it at someone, it was a threat. Obviously it did something horrible though I had yet to witness what it could do.

Still though, despite the threat, it was all meaningless to me. All I cared about was the realization that I was leaving the lab which I had thought was everything. Imagine my innocent shock when Megatron had walked towards a wall and it had suddenly hissed, making an opening for the tall being! I gapped and tried to lurch after but was held back by Hook. His face was a relief of sharp, jagged edges and I came to the conclusion then that he was ugly.

"Grovel after Megatron some other time." He snapped but I only gazed at the opening before it hissed shut and I jumped, shocked. How powerful Megatron was to force walls to bend and become openings for him! Hook smirked at me then, waving a hand in my face to snap my attention back to him. "So it's the door you were interested in; all brawns and not a spare processor for thinking then."

"What else did you expect, Megatron designed him after all. Wouldn't want him to be too smart now would we?" Starscream's voice cut in as a set of hands settled themselves on my shoulders, steadying me as Hook prodded me to stand. My balance was slow in coming but with the aid of Starscream behind and Hook before me, I managed. My thoughts jumbled together in shock at the realization that I was actually taller then the others and Hook was forced to look up at me.

"Negative assumption Hook. His processors are different then our own." I moved my head towards Soundwave. In all the repair sessions in the lab I had never seen him and aside from perhaps one or two words to Megatron he rarely talked. I caught sight of a large dark form on right side but Hook grunted and prodded me to pay attention to my feet instead.

"Focus. Your gyroscope is _still_ out of sync. I don't know why, I've worked on the stupid algorithms for at least three joors. Focus on standing and keeping your head up! By the pit you're stupid." He looked upwards in irritation. "Why me? His designs were far too flawed and the materials used…disgusting."

"Incorrect."

"Primus Soundwave, look at him! He can't even walk on his own! His gyroscope should have compensated for the change in gravity the moment he moved! Even the Stunticons had no troubles and they're _far_ from being perfect."

Starscream gave a shrill cackle. "I'll remember to tell them you said that when this is all over. Come on scrapling, move your feet before I start rusting." I moved on foot, feeling exhilarated by the fact that my limbs followed my orders, however jerky it was. Compared to the times in the lab those jerky motions were beyond my expectations.

"Enough. Apocalypse has been created under different circumstances then the Stunticons. His learning is cognitive, not instantaneous upload. Understood?" Soundwave rumbled in that strange, cold voice of his.

"Whatever." Hook replied while Starscream only grunted, using one of his own feet into prodding my other foot to move. I was forced to again concentrate on my limbs though it was difficult to as I had just realized then that I was taller than Starscream.

"Wouldn't it be easier though if we just did an upload or two? We could all be done in less the..." Hook tried again but he did not get very far.

"Negative. The subject is forbidden now around Apocalypse. He imprints."

"Drone sees. Drone does." Starscream quipped and with that the conversation turned to keeping me from falling over while walking.

It was irritating to have them speak about so many things I had little knowledge of. _Uploading? Gyroscope? Cognitive? Drone? Primus?_ What did these words mean? At the moment I could not do anything but continue forcing myself to move in the direction they wished, opposite the wall Megatron had walked out of.

_Door. _I corrected myself. I tensed as we came to the wall and I took note that it was similar to the door from the other side and just as before, it too hissed and opened, sliding away. I longed to figure out how it did that but with Starscream and Hook prodding me I could not. Fortunately when I looked up beyond Hook' helm I no longer cared about the doors.

"What…what is tha-t?" I asked, transfixed by the sight. It was Starscream who answered.

"It's a hallway and porthole scrapling. Nothing more, now will you focus on moving those feet?"

"No! N-o-o! _In_…po…rthole! What…wh…what is th..at?" I pointed again. Or tried to point to the porthole I should say. I almost hit Hook with my shaking hand and I turned to look over my shoulder at Starscream. He raised an optic ridge at me in slight aggravation but followed my erratic gesture. Instantly the sour look on his face lightened imperceptibly and he cocked his head.

"His vocal components are completely glitched! I _told_ you he shouldn't have been moved with his systems still adapting." Hook complained as I heard Soundwave following behind us.

"He is curious. A normal reaction given his CPU design." Soundwave replied but Hook only sighed—a curious process created through a slightly large exhalation of air from one's vents or nasal cavity—a sound I was learning could be used for many different meanings. One them being annoyance.

"Of course the little glitch is going to be curious but still...this is why my way is so much cleaner then cognitive."

"Final warning. Do not bring up that subject around..."

Starscream ignored them, as did I, so enraptured by the sight of a strange sphere looking back at me from beyond the porthole.

"_That_ is a whale." Starscream finally answered his tone noticeably softer. Jerking my feet into going closer I tested the word, scowling at how my vocal components skipped slightly over the strangeness of it. Hook gave a huff before letting go completely, moving away and forcing me to lean against Starscream for balance. His hands tightened on my shoulders as he kept me from falling.

I reached out and touched the glass, gasping a little at how cold it felt but I did not back away, staring back at the spherical orb. The orb was lodged in a strange background of dull gray covered in wrinkles. A fold of the strange gray matter suddenly shifted slowly, closing over the orb for a moment before retreating again to its previous position. Strange black protrusions over this lid gave the entire process a graceful, almost tired look.

"Op-tic…is…optic of…of…wh..ale?"

"Eye. Not an optic. A whale is an organic being. An eye functions just like an optic though." Starscream gestured to the orb's…eye's surrounding matter. "That's flesh, an organic construction similar to plating, wiring, and framework. The eye is an enhanced creation of liquid which uses light to reflect pictures. Not nearly as good as an optic, but still impressive for it being made of liquid."

Slowly the eye moved to the right, out of the porthole's sight and for the longest moment there was nothing but more of the whale's gray flesh. It was bigger then even Megatron! I gapped in astonishment at the amount of flesh passing by the window.

Something rumbled deep in my chassis and I looked around in confusion. Starscream noticed it and sniggered, his smirk returning. "Whales emit a long sub-frequency pulsing. It's singing."

"Sing…ing. Sing…hear…audi…aud…" Finally the mass of flesh ended with an odd protrusion of two sweeping form. The entire thing moving slowly up and down, propelling it forward through…through…

"Wat-t-r!"

"Okay! That's enough bonding with the fleshy, get him in the chamber already Starscream, I'm not going to have Megatron slag me into bits for causing a complete systems-wide crash on the first orn of activation. And since when do you know anything about the fleshies?"

Starscream's voice lost whatever softness it had possessed just moments before as he shifted slightly away from me though I felt his hand still on my shoulder. "What's the matter Hook? You're not afraid of the 'mighty' Megatron are you? Afraid we might harm his new pet project?"

I was far more interested in that dark realm just beyond my shaking reach. I wanted to see the whale again. I was having difficulty trying to understand how liquid could allow something to 'see' like an optic.

Soundwave finally spoke up again. "Hook is correct, Starscream. Apocalypse should not be exposed at this time. It is far too early to show him such things. Already his processor is at five percent above the safety limit."

"Give the scrapling a break; he wanted to see the whale. What should it matter to Megatron if he sees a whale or not?"

Soundwave's voice was much closer before a large, cold hand gently, but firmly, steered me away from the porthole. "His core training has not begun. There is still a sixty-three percent risk of overall failure."

Starscream groaned. "Oh yes, can't let the project fail. Megatron wouldn't be happy, and we can't let that happen, Primus forbid."

"Let's commune with fleshies when the kid's base programs are actually functioning normally!" Hook snapped. Another door swished open and I peered in, curious but still rather hesitant. It was much smaller then the lab and a bit dimmer with a single berth against a wall. There was also no one in it.

"Apocalypse. You will begin training as Megatron has instructed. Understood?" At his voice I turned around a bit to stare at him, unable to do anything more than nod. In truth though I wanted to ask more about the whale and how it was so large and how it lived without wiring.

"Soundwave he won't understand anything. He can't even say his own name without going into a vocal loop!" Hook peered around Soundwave's bulk to stare at me, or rather, glare at me for my inadequacies. Starscream was still keeping a grip on my other shoulder.

I mimicked his facial features to some extent, angered that he obviously hated me so. Everything about this ugly, sharp-edged being set me off from the moment he insulted me. "Wh…wha Megat-ron…ant?" I asked. To say my words stopped Hook and Starscream from their bickering would have been an understatement. Gone was Hook' glare as his optics widened in shock.

"Perhaps I was wrong about him being too stupid." Hook murmured before narrowing his optics and then moving away, back to the lab. "Let me know when this 'conditioning' begins."

"He will be taught. Not conditioned." I would learn that while each of these beings could be pushed or manipulated to varying degrees, Soundwave would always have the last word, even with Megatron on rare instances.

With a shove from both Starscream and Soundwave that was actually quite gentle I fell over, catching the edge of the berth before landing on the floor and turned around just in time to see the door slid shut with a quiet hiss. Through the thick metal I could hear Hook talking to Soundwave but it was in subdued tones and a strange beeping noise was coming from the door before I heard their steps moving away.

Gazing at the four walls I dragged myself onto the berth before lying heavily on it, my internal systems humming in agitation. It was the only noise in that hole and it gave me little comfort, being alone for the first time in my short existence. I reverted to counting the tiles in an effort to ignore the increasing thoughts that the walls were closing around me and that I would never be found.

Such were my first memories of leaving the lab.

What can be said about the three who oversaw to my every need? Hook was by far the vainest of my teachers. He always looked down at me yet he strangely fussed over me the most. I will not say he coddled me; for nothing could be further from the truth. But it seemed as if I was of personal interest to him, a project of his own that he had to complete to the best of his abilities. From him I learned that he hated just about everyone, save himself and his brothers. I also learned the stabilities of mathematics, algorithms, shapes, and angles. With his bright green coloring he would impress upon me the importance of perfection. If even a degree was out of alignment then the entire algorithm was worthless. Unless schooling me he rarely came to me of his own will but even as young and simple as I was I realized it was better for my own security.

Starscream was the one who taught me science, the theorizing that lay behind a scientific process. Of the entire group I knew then, he was the most colorful and the most exuberant with his constant barrage of insults to Megatron. I never questioned why he hated Megatron so and to be honest it never occurred of me to ask. At that time I was too busy trying to keep up with Starscream's lessons for despite his tantrums and cowardliness, he was perhaps the best teacher among the Decepticons. I realize this only now, so far from him and his lectures and problems and now surrounded by my own students. Back then I only dreaded his questions for they always seemed to short out my new processor and he always ignored the time allotted for his lessons. Both Hook and Soundwave detested this but in the end neither stepped in to stop Starscream's methods for he did in fact gain results, no matter how his pupil disliked it.

"Think scrapling. Use what you have!" the seeker would often tell me. He loved saying that just as much as he loved calling me 'scrapling'. There was no such thing as _not_ knowing enough in Starscream's opinion. For a creature who would act impulsively for power without knowing all of the facts, such a habit is odd to have.

It was Soundwave though who my favorite of all my teachers. He was a cold, terrible being to look upon, sometimes even worse then Megatron for at least there were emotions to be read on a face. Soundwave only had an almost crude optic-band and a large mask which covered his olfactory sensors and external vocalizer. He taught to me time's passing for I began to dread it whenever he left. Starscream for all his vibrant colors was impatient in nearly all things and Hook was cruel and never seemed satisfied with the results, insulting me indirectly for my short comings. But Soundwave never narrowed his optics when I stuttered or simply even refused to speak out of shame. It was a trial still to communicate despite the work they put forth to correct the problem.

"Wh…y?" I asked him once, just before the lesson was to begin. His optic-band glowed slightly but he showed no irritation.

"You are still a sparkling Apocalypse. It is not uncommon for such 'disturbances' to show themselves."

"Su…pp-osed. Per…fect."

"Negative. Hook' use of the word is detrimental to your teaching. Perfection is a lie for nothing can be perfect." Now he looked irritated, a heavy sigh coming from his side vents as he peered at me. For others it might have been difficult to see his different emotions but I learned his subtle body language and the way his optic-band would glow or fade if he focused on something.

I shook my head at him before pointing to the now-familiar symbol on his chassis and again he sighed, this time from realization. "Megatron also uses the word but it is in a better context. He sees you as a success."

"N…ot. Suc..Suc…_tha_.._t!_" I glared at nothing particular, angry I could not say the words that rattled around in my thoughts, begging to be released. A large, navy blue hand rested on my shoulder, making me jerk in surprise. Touch was used little save during manual check-ups or the one time Megatron had touched my face.

"Apocalypse stop. You try too hard and your systems are trying to catch up. Give it time and soon all of your systems will align themselves. And who told you that you were not a success?"

I pointed at my chassis angrily and then at my mouth and throat where my internal vocal components were situated.

"Your processor is adapting itself faster then the rest of your systems. That is all. It is normal."

"No..mal."

"Affirmative. You overwork yourself into performing at capabilities and at levels you are not yet ready for. Give it time."

Time. Time. Time. It was a phenomenon I was growing to hate even in my short exposure to the living world. Seeing my glower Soudwave's hand squeezed my shoulder lightly, comforting. "Our lessons will be changed slightly. In order to practice your literacy, all conversations shall be written. Understood?"

Soundwave for many reasons was my favorite, but I believe he was my favorite for that reason above all else. He gave me the ability to speak without fault. From that point on he and I spoke through datapads and through these datapads I learned about Decepticons. I learned more of my purpose and more of Megatron himself.

But that came later. First and foremost, I learned _how_ to be a Decepticon. This is where my tale truly begins.

* * *

_Every Decepticon is under Megatron, every single one_. Even in his words, Soundwave retained a strict, formal tone that all but demanded one to show respect. With the increased usage of written words, my vocabulary had expanded. Or rather I should say; my understanding of languages expanded. It was a simple matter of learning the written language for I knew and understood with relative ease. It was the syntax, the double meanings of words and phrases which gave me troubles. In the privacy of my room I had supposed that it was due in part to not having enough experience to better categorize each word and meaning appropriately.

_Further explanation is needed. How does one rule many? And how many are there who are Decepticon?_ I typed quickly into the datapad. Both of us were sitting on the floor of the hallway as I had requested for I found relaxing and almost secluded from the rest of my simple world. None of my teachers would enter my tiny compartment (I was expected to rise and wake and meet with them at the precise time allotted for their lessons and/or their checkups on my body) and I detested the lab.

_Recall previous lessons Apocalypse. An Empire refers to many and a single individual can lead many._ Soundwave sent back. For the most part all that was heard during these lessons was the sound of our vents releasing warm air, and the clicking of metal digits against keys.

I was still confused, I knew only of my teachers and occasionally Megatron but that was all. _I do not understand. Forgive. The idea of many is difficult to assimilate._

_To be expected. It is only natural that you cannot comprehend the numbers at this time._

_How can that change?_

_With experience. Moving on. Repeat knowledge given on Megatron._

I sighed through my side vents, having learned from Starscream what the expulsion of air could signify in such a context of a conversation. _Within what boundaries?_ I asked.

There was a low rumble of static and internal systems powering in agitation. I winced before typing quickly into the datapad on my lap. _What word was not proper?_ If there was one thing Soundwave did not like, it was poor speech.

_Boundaries; incorrect usage. Parameters. Continue._

I filed the change away before doing as instructed._ Within what parameters?_

_Better. What did he do to lead the Decepticon Empire?_

_He battled for the sport of those who had originally built the Transformers. With each win he coerced more to his side, proving he could win…_

"You are thinking about actions. Think about emotional programming instead Apocalypse." Soundwave interrupted. His voice startled me and I eyed him somewhat nervously before trying again.

_He won. That is an action. An emotion would be…Soundwave I do not know._

"He showed no fear to those who had forced him to fight." Soundwave again spoke aloud before he began typing in the datapad again. _It is one thing to be afraid, as you are afraid of Megatron, but never reveal your fear. Even to him._

I shifted, looking anywhere but Soundwave. It bothered me that Soundwave knew my fear so easily but then I should have known better. Whenever Megatron was near me I felt my internal processes speed up while my motor functions would become forced and cause me to short out at times. It was an irritation to Hook and Starscream because they would spend precious time recalibrating my systems but to me it was an embarrassment.

_He does not approve of me then?_ I asked cautiously.

_No._

I gapped first at the datapad and then at Soundwave. Perhaps then Soundwave pitied my idiotic look for his digits flew across the datapad again and I looked at my own screen.

_He does not think that of you Apocalypse but you must not show your fear to anyone, myself included. It is dangerous; Decepticons have a basic core program to find and control power, and finding another's weakness is a power. Survival depends on hiding your weaknesses; even those that are merely perceived by yourself are to be kept hidden._

I eyed his words and memorized them as I did with all of his other lectures, written or spoken. But this time it was different for Soundwave was not simply teaching me how to succeed to Megatron's expectations. He was teaching me how to survive amongst those I would call brethren. These words entrenched themselves into my entire outlook on life.

Perhaps if I had been raised under different circumstances then I might have felt uneasy about this new knowledge. Perhaps I would have realized that I was being taught in a roundabout way that my own brethren would seek out my weaknesses to use and even kill me. But I knew only of my teachers and Megatron; I relied on them completely for my every need. To me, what Soundwave had just written was the simple truth; I did not question the ethics behind it. I merely agreed to hide my weaknesses and Soundwave continued in questioning my knowledge on Megatron's rise to power in the initial years.

In my room though, away from the lessons I made a vow to myself. I would make Megatron proud of me; I would become a true Decepticon, one who would have _no_ weaknesses to speak of. Why hide my weaknesses if I can be rid of them completely?

I began to say the lessons of my day out loud in the safety of my room, forcing myself to start over every time I failed to say a word perfectly. I ignored the warnings which flashed over my visions, instead I learned to reroute power to my vocal components and I learned to speak extremely slowly to better say the words.

And at the end, before slipping into recharge, I would repeat Soundwave's words, holding them close to my spark.

"_Sur…vi…vaaal de…pennnds on hi-ding yourrr weaknesses…" _

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** Lykurgos was the very reason why ancient Sparta became a military power in ancient Greece. He created unwritten laws and while some rebelled against his strict, almost brutal laws, the majority agreed to them out of a need for stability.

In order to keep the laws untouched, Lykurgos made the Spartans vow that they could not change the laws until Lykurgos returned to Sparta from a trip. Lykurgos never did return to Sparta though and at his death he ordered that his body be cremated and spread to the winds rather then brought to Sparta for proper burial. If one thinks about it, Lykurgos was probably the Teacher of all Spartan soldiers.


	5. Data Log Entry: 3

**A/N: **Music is my muse. I ordered the Transformers 2007 movie score, very cool. Thank you for the reviews on this and I'm still trying to get over the hit counts. I wanted to do this simply as an exercise in writing so its kind of shocking. And yes, this has yet to see a beta so every single error is my own. Also be amazed that I finally finished a chapter with this one as it seemed to have a good layer of cyberdust covering it.

**Warnings: **Based on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back. Enjoy.

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:**__ Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

**DATA LOG ENTRY: 3**

I suppose there are those now expecting to read about my days of training under the optics of Megatron and my teachers.

Even now it is difficult for me to say the word 'train' without smirking. And yes, I do that because I refuse to forget some aspects of my early life. For a Decepticon, 'training' is a pretty yet empty word meant to soothe and caress beings who have constantly failed. Some even go on to state that it is an entirely Autobot concept denoting the fact that one is not intelligent or powerful enough to learn the required function the first time around. You either get it, or you die within the Decepticon ranks.

That is not to say that lessons are not given, for they are, and that is not to say that Decepticons have never practiced, for they have (I myself can personally vouch for that as Megatron demanded perfection). But when the time is at hand and you have become a true Decepticon, a soldier, you are expected to accomplish the desired task. What is more, for survival's sake, you must make it appear almost idiotically simple no matter how complex it may be.

I can only surmise now that it was my drive to eradicate all of my weaknesses which saved me from a gruesome fate so early in my life. For the longest period I dealt with the theories and the histories of battle, perfecting my memorization and data-processing skills. I knew the mathematics of performing the perfect roll at sound-breaking speeds while continuing to avoid ground fire. I could recite the entire Ballad of Glory depicting the triumphs of the Empire over three Autobot outposts on the fringes of Cybertronian space. I knew every city, every district, and every key strategic point on the homeworld; though I had yet to set foot on it's almost sacred ground.

In short, I knew the theory but I knew nothing of what it meant to **truly** be a Decepticon. This, of course had to be rectified as soon as possible in the optics of all those involved in my creation. A true Decepticon is a soldier and a true soldier must be on guard at all times, their bodies finely tuned to defend or (far more preferably for a Decepticon) attack…

…but did I even care? I can already tell that the readers are curious about my own feelings, from both my youth and my current position. To be honest I can only admit that I felt little else aside from a desire to prove myself to those who had already been privileged to have fought in countless battles. I had little knowledge of my teaching schedule as such things were deemed out of my control. My position within the sunken ship was a strange one; I was protected as though I were the finest grade of energon and yet my rank was lower then even an Autobot-turned-Decepticon.

Now however I look upon the Empire's methods and that of the Autobot's and organics and find myself almost envious. Envious of the open society in which the young may make numerous mistakes in creating for themselves a niche and an identity. Organics especially seem to have a special place for their creations, setting them apart and yet at the center of their society's core. More importantly, both organics and Autobots encourage their young to openly express their love for those within their primary caring groups.

If anything then, I feel the pride of having survived becoming a Decepticon, but also the hunger for wishing that I had felt the love of a Creator.


	6. Septem

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for the reviews and/or simply reading this. You'll start noticing I've begun trying to loosely create some form of culture for the Decepticons.

**Warnings: **I have not read the comics and I am purposely staying away from those timelines with only a few points that I wished to keep on the G1 series but only until I take what is called 'artistic liberties' and smash the entire plotline to hell and back. Enjoy.

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Warrior, scholar, lover, prisoner, and slave. I am this. Traitor, teacher, friend, and demon. I am this as well. To stop the nightmares I will write this and hope...

_**Disclaimers:**__ Transformers is the property of Hasbro and concept licensed through Takara Co. All original characters however are created by ciscogirl/ciscogoldengirl and protected by copyright laws. This work was created only for enjoyment, not with the goals of credit or monetary gain in any fashion._

**

* * *

**

Septem - Seven

_A man argued that Sparta should set up a democracy, and to this, Lycurgus replied: "Begin with your own family."  
_

* * *

It was my sixty-third maintenance check up when Megatron came and announced to my teachers that I should proceed to socialize with the rest of the army. Doing so at such a young age would only aid in my developmental process. Or so Megatron claimed when Hook began to sputter out reasons as to why I was not ready.

So far I had been taken into the lab for emergency sessions only ten times after having made my vow of eradicating all weaknesses. Of those ten times, four of them had been in reconnecting damaged circuits within my vocal components. The remainder of those sessions having been centered with my still rather unstable balance. Despite that however I was getting better at maneuvering my body as I had taken to walking up and down my little hallway, trying to mimic the same powerful stride as Megatron or more importantly, Soundwave.

"And I say he is ready Hook." Megatron said, silencing my teacher with a single glare that sent shiver through me and I had not been on the receiving side of it. Sitting on the berth I turned away to watch curiously as Soundwave finished turning off several monitors that were always used to record my system readings. His movements, usually so graceful and efficient, were sharper than normal and I could not help but wince when he forcibly removed a cable from the side of a portable monitor.

"I won't have such a promising soldier degrade into a disgusting hermit. You need to see the rest of the world now." Megatron said, breaking me out of my thoughts and I turned to look at the Decepticon leader. Smirking from behind Megatron, Starscream caught my optic and his smile turned even more vicious. I could not help but feel wary at that gesture and glancing back at Megatron only furthered in cementing my caution. He seemed excited by his own order, his hands firmly planted just above his hip joints. He looked ready for a fight with his lips pulled away from his dental plates in a hideous grin while his weight was almost entirely on the balls of his feet. His pose was setting me on edge, the systems in control of my vents and limbs increasing by a slight percentage as if preparing for something. I was becoming used to these instances in which my own body worked independently of my thoughts. I had come to see them as what they were; a side effect of that wretched program still lurking in my systems. The same feelings which had stayed my hands from challenging Hook the first time I was aware of him also seemed intent on keeping my properly obedient when in close proximity of Megatron. I called this sensation my 'dark voice', though it never spoke but rather seemed to create strong urges and feelings.

I tried to relax myself by trying to meet Soundwave's optics, hoping that perhaps my beloved teacher would inspire calm thought. The logic-driven mech however refused to meet my questioning optics. Shocked, I tried to look over to Hook out of desperation but an astro second later I regretted it. The bright green mech was openly glaring at Megatron, his form still held in a slightly submissive stance compared to the war-based mech but everything from his neck to his digits was taut with stress.

If even Hook was bypassing his usual behavior around Megatron to display such open aggression then was this integration a disaster waiting to happen? The mere idea of it only furthered my systems in increasing their air intake. "As youu c-c-oomand." I replied as I turned back to Megatron, bowing my head to Megatron's wishes even as I wished to run back to my chambers and stay there. What else could I say however to him?

"Excellent. Prepare yourself then Apocalypse; this is another step in your path to becoming a Decepticon warrior." Megatron all but purred but I narrowed my optics in confusion at the way he seemed to stress 'prepare'. But I could not ask further into his meaning as Soundwave and Hook quickly stepped in at some unheard queue while Megatron turned away and from the way he met Starscream's optics I knew they were communicating privately. It was an odd sight to see them conversing as Starscream was often quite open in his hostility to anything Megatron proposed. This time however they seemed to be almost downright _civil_ to each other. Starscream was even nodding minutely at whatever it was Megatron was saying to him, that devious smirk only turning more twisted with each passing moment.

"What i-is go-ing on?" I whispered to Soundwave though Hook obviously heard it as well though he made no other action save for moving behind me to sort through some instruments. "Si-i-ir?"

"Apocalypse must survive. Project will fail if subject is terminated."

_Terminated?_ Terminated was a word that meant going into a place where thousands of other spark waited, becoming a part of whole where no one fought. Few words can make a Decepticon's spark shudder like that word for it is an emotionless word; quite unlike the almost ruthless word of death which is far better for the needs of a warrior.

Even so young and naïve, the idea of termination sent cold sensations through my entire nervous system, sparking anxiety through my CPU. I could not become a Decepticon warrior if I was terminated now, I could not become powerful if I could not even fight for elevation and glory. Where was the thrill of victory if I was terminated? I reached out and caught a hold of Soundwave's hand, keeping him close enough so I could continue to speak.

" 'oww…can I sur-rvive?"

"That cannot be said as the project will fail if you are given such information. You must win."

"The-e-n tell me _when_." I tightened my hand around his own a bit, unable to plead as my pride refused such a thing. The lessons in history and the Empire did little in destroying such emotions but had rather encouraged its growth. I had no desire to be terminated but I did not like the idea of pleading, even to my favorite teacher.

"Main functions are being deadened. Cycle through lesson 105 for assistance."

Several things happened the moment he said those words. Starscream laughed, Megatron joined him, and Hook grasped my head, twisting it just enough downward so he could slip something sharp and painful into an open crevice formed between two small armor plates. The pain ended just as fast as it had begun, though where the pain had been, a dead numbness filled it as systems responsible for motor functions froze in mid action. With a loud crash I fell against the berth and slid down onto the floor in a strange twist of limbs and joints. I would have screamed but that would have needed the use of my mouth, that too frozen in mid-gasp. Even my optics, no longer under my direct guidance, faded out until all I could see was a non descript gray.

"Lessons 105 Apocalypse. Study it." Soundwave again said, his voice striking through the fear welling up inside me. I could not even nod at his command.

But I could understand the reason for Soundwave giving each lesson a numerical value. And I could hope and pray that this cryptic message could potentially save my life for lesson 105 had in truth only been an ancient set of proverbs from the lost past of Cybertron. In fact at the time Soundwave had only said them in passing, moving on to the more important aspects such as the importance of Polyhex in the war.

'_It is the dead Decepticon who trusts in his kin.'_

'_If the warrior follows and never leads, that warrior is not a warrior.'_

'_Does not the void of space reward the violence of a nova with the rebirth of a star?'_

Even when I felt myself being picked up I remained lost to those proverbs for they were the key to my survival. The first was easily understood but it was the other two which made me unsure. I knew that my trust in Soundwave and the other teachers had been a mistake that they had taken advantage of. They could not be hated for it as they were true Decepticons and they had exploited my weakness. I could only hate myself for it and hopefully adapt.

"…hear us?" Megatron's voice. So then even my hearing was faltering under the numbing freeze I had been subjected too. Footsteps. The sound of metal touching metal, ventilation systems revving slightly as though experiencing a need to cool internal systems down.

"…point…systems…not permanent." Hook's voice. If it was not permanent then could I use this to my own advantage? Dimly over their footsteps I heard the door's hydraulics close to my helm before I heard the hydraulics hiss shut behind me. My spark throbbed at the implications though I tried to keep calm.

'_If the Warrior follows and never leads, that Warrior is not a Warrior.'_ The second proverb to that lesson. A supposedly blasphemous thought for in nearly every lesson, in nearly every other word, my teachers had told me about the need for loyalty. The need to follow orders without questioning them. The idea that disobeying would be unforgivable, a sin which would forever doom a Decepticon. And yet…the words spoke to me in a seductive manner, poking at my still forming conception of a Decepticon and ridiculing my blind obedience.

From the echoes we were in a large hallway of some kind, certainly larger than my only little hallway that seemed ages behind me. How was I being carried and who many carried me? I could not know with my numbed body and I was afraid to try and reboot my optics, thereby revealing how quickly my systems were repairing themselves from the shock. Could they even hear me and if so had they intended for me to still hear them to this extent?

"…ready? Cyberquake seems…stupid name." Hook asked. Cyberquake? Who was Cyberquake?

"Droid wanted…matter?" Starscream.

_A driod?_

So this Cyberquake was a droid, but it only brought more questions. Droids were normally simple machines with just enough intelligence to perform their duties and as such were given numerical designations, not names. Was this driod then special in some fashion? Of course, I was also curious as to what droids were in person as I had only seen them in datapad files. And normally they were squat things with multiple limbs for specialized tasks. Most importantly of all they only had a rudimentary concept of sentient thought and problem-solving. Fail-safe programs prevented them from grasping such things as personalities, ideas, and beliefs.

The numb sensations began to decrease already though I kept still, keeping myself a dead weight.

"Is that the kid? Doesn't look…much." A new voice. Was this Cyberquake? I longed to online my optics and stare but contained myself.

"Get out…Skywarp…"

Skywarp. A name denoting immediately a flight-associated Decepticon. A seeker then similar to Starscream and as such, perhaps even under Starscream in rank given Starscream's position. An internal alert notified me that my audials were now at 100% again. The knowledge came not a moment too soon as I began hearing other sounds over the footsteps of multiple Decepticons. The feeling of my limbs being held by several different beings became obvious as well.

"Aww come on Starscream, I just wanted to see the twerp before the droid pounds him."

_Twerp? Kid? Maybe the freeze is tampering with my linguistic capabilities._ It was a stretch but I was beginning to grow desperate. My once temperamental teachers had collectively turned on me while an unknown Decepticon was calling me strange words while suggesting a _driod_ of all things beat me up.

"Skywarp get your miserable aft out of our way and is the driod ready or not?"

"Yeah, yeah it's ready Starscream."

Ready? For what? And why did they have to disable me to bring me to the droid? It was obvious that was where I was going but the idea horrified me. Droids were less then even Autobots because of their lack of sentience. Why then was I going to it? I rebooted my optics, groaning to alert them I was regaining control.

"Whe-e-ere…?" I asked, shaking my head slightly though it was not all pretend as my head still buzzed horribly and my programs still were not completely in sync, thus giving my eyesight a faint lag. An unfamiliar face came into view, smirking at me in a condescending manner. Skywarp then?

"Can't speak well can he? Rise and shine sleeping beauty you've got someone who wants to meet you!" Skywarp exclaimed, all the while wearing that devious smirk, a give away that this 'Cyberquake' would not simply wish to say hello. He was pushed aside rather violently by Starscream and finally I saw how similar their body designs were, wings proudly displayed on their backs. The only real differences were that of coloration as Skywarp held two dark colors of purple and black in such a way that it seemed to scream that he was a mech not to be trifled with. Or perhaps it was all just a bluff…

"I said back off you fool!" Starscream exclaimed, optics darkening greatly.

That tiny flicker of coloration seemed to spur everything, forcing my motor systems in a shuddering effort to reboot after the freeze. Limbs once numbed felt hands grasping wrists and ankles tightly. A jumbled bellow burst like a static bolt from my mouth as I fought, ripping my arms and limbs free and falling with a loud crash to the purple metal floor. Vision blanked out for a fraction of an astro second, coming back online with meaningless statistics pertaining to the slight pain registering in my legs. "W…why?"

"So you can be a Decepticon. Or at least start learning to be one." Megatron cut in, effectively silencing me as he moved from behind, my two holders moving aside to let him pass. Hooks refused to look at me while Soundwave simply kept his head at Megatron, his entire body still.

"Y-o-ou sa-id I wa-s-s-s one." It was clear my anxiety and Hook's freeze program had severely impeded my voice even further. I was surprised I could even make out what I was saying. What must I have sounded like to these experienced energon-glutting soldiers?

"Wrong Apocalypse. You listen to only what you think is important." Megatron's smile became patronizing and from my lessons with Hook I knew that expression all too well. Megatron shook his head, moving again until he was right before my form, hands clasp behind him. "You have yet to even know what takes to even think about becoming one." His voice was a static-filled hiss, triggering the dark voice within me back into full wakefulness.

It knew the purpose of this mysterious driod. The reason behind the secrecy.

"Tes..sst m-m-me." the words were jumbled, a mess of sounds that leapt in octaves from low to a scrappy high pitched mechanical whine. And yet I could feel the approval in Megatron.

"Looks like someone's gotta death wish." Skywarp said loudly. Megatron, still looking straight at me only tilted his head minutely to one side and in that instant all of the approval I had seen in his optics was gone. Straightening up, he turned his back on me, walking away without even glancing at me and I took note of the large room we were in. the ceiling seemed high above me, the metal beams hidden in shadows while the walls held numerous patches, scorches, dents, and scratches. I gazed down the room, taking it all in.

And my optics finally saw the others at the far end. Staring right back at me.

They were all manner of colors though most were of dark, muted tones. Some were so small they could have sat on Megatron's shoulder easily if they wished. Though it was clear from how proudly they acted that they might be more insulted than Megatron himself at such an action. Others dwarfed the Decepticon leader, their girths so wide I could have easily imagined them crushing mechs in their great arms. And still others held the distinctive wing tips and thrusters of those capable of flying alternative modes, their very mannerisms all but screaming their ideas of superiority over the others with their visible tires or treads. They were all clustered in groups denoting everything from color schemes to size to their alternative mode and yet all of them bore the distinctive red optics. And more importantly, the great purple brand denoting a true Decepticon.

Suddenly angry at myself for such a shameful appearance I quickly stood, my balance faltering. Some of the Decepticons rolled their optics upward while others openly sneered. All of them moved aside for Megatron. Skywarp and Starscream followed, moving to stand with those with wings and it was then I finally noticed what had to be Starscream's third trine member, a bright blue Seeker with the same body model as his trine mates. Hook and Soundwave were following them now; Soundwave making straight for the smallest of the group and Hook to a group of similarly colored mechs.

"Is this the selected target?" the voice fell upon my audial sensors like a lead weight, jerking me from observations of the Decepticons and making me focus my sights on the only other being. It stood far enough from the others so that no one group could claim it. But then it was glaringly obvious even to me that it did not belong amongst any group, much less even with the presence of so many deadly soldiers. It had a strikingly delicate body design with several notable features. For one it had no arms, only two coiling black wires that twitched and writhed with what might had been seen as excitement. A closer inspection of the long wires revealed spurs of an unidentifiable metal though I had was not too surprised, there were so many things I could not identify. Another difference was the fact that it was painted a pure white with no Decepticon symbol gracing its thin body anywhere.

It was extremely gratifying to see the absence of the symbol. Though that feeling was minute when compared to the feeling of absolute shock upon looking at the droid's face. Or rather, the lack of its face.

"I don't think the scrapling likes the way you look Cyberquake." One of the Decepticons joked, his optics bright from heightened system awareness though I seemed unable to tell much more; too horrified by the droid's appearance. My apparent rival simply tilted his head jerkily to one side and then to another as its infrared sensors came online, humming to life. Had the face held even the visor like that of Soundwave I may have not been so distraught but that was not even the case. The driod had a symmetrical assortment of bulbous visual instruments acting as primitive optics, all in all numbering twelve while where a mouth might have been there was not even a line delineating dental plates.

"There is no purpose to that." Cyberquake's 'voice' screeched out from somewhere in its upper chassis, echoing strangely. Instead of the sturdy pedes I was used to seeing, the droid's legs were heavily segmented and they ended in sharp points. How did the droid even move without falling over? Shifting one backwards jointed leg to lean towards me it watched me with those empty optic sensors. I followed suit awkwardly, unable to make the motion look as seamless as Cyberquake had. "Why should I care about how he likes or dislikes my body?" Cyberquake surprisingly turned his head nearly completely behind to look at Megatron. "Again I ask; is he the selected target? I wish to prove myself to you Lord Megatron."

"And so you shall Cyberquake. And so you shall. Apocalypse is indeed the target. If you defeat him then I will make you a full Decepticon." Megatron rumbled, a smile touching his lips. I watched as Cyberquake again tilted his head before giving a jerky nod.

"To have an increase in my memory levels and the ability to better protect myself from others. Acceptable rewards for the elimination of the target."

"You se-e-em to thi…i-ink I wi..ill let y-y-you." I snarled in what I hoped would be intimidating. Instead my stuttering only made some of the Decepticons all but howl with laughter. I ignored them as best I could in preference to readying myself for the battle. Cyberquake merely flicked his left tendril-arm so it cracked with a terrific snap in the air before moving forward, his body gleaming in the dim light. With his strangely formed legs he moved with a strange grace that bespoke of a cold, calculating strategy. I was mesmerized by the grace even as I was disgusted by the droid's body.

"Whether or not the target 'allows' for this is irrelevant. The target has been selected for elimination." One of Cyberquake's many bulbous optic sensors retreated back into the head, folds of metal covering it for a moment before it came back out; a blink. "I suggest an idea. The use of resources is limited and I desire to win completely. As such there can not even be a trace left of the target. The target's CPU will be reformatted for my uses in becoming a Decepticon."

_What?_ I glanced up as Skywarp smacked his knee as he laughed, leaning against Starscream though Starscream himself no longer seemed so content. In fact he looked downright upset by Cyberquake's words. I myself was trying to comprehend what this disgusting artifice of intelligence was saying.

"An excellent idea Cyberquake." Megatron suddenly said and I raised my optics in shock to Megatron; the very being who had originally been so focused on every single success in my short life. His optics were a dark vermillion while he smirked at Cyberquake's back. He then caught my look and raised an optic ridge questioningly.

"Is the poor widdle 'bot scared?" someone jeered.

"Run from Cyberquake before he shreds you for scrap!"

"You better lose weakling, I've got twenty cubes on the driod!"

"Astrotrain you slag-sucker get outta my way! I wanna see the weakling get smashed by a droid!"

"What's wrong with the afthead anyway? He can't even talk right and he doesn't even have an alt mode."

"Gimme ten cubes on the droid!"

What was going on here? Weren't these supposed to be Decepticon soldiers, arrogantly confident that no droid could best one of their own? Droids were nothing more than pieces of metal and a few bits of programming code in their software. This was not what was supposed to happen. How could Megatron simply watch me like that, smiling so much as his own troops bet and insulted something he himself had ordered to be created?

'_It is the dead Decepticon who trusts in his kin.'_

Again the quote struck through me and again I became enlightened, optics widening so much I was sure they could see the edges of my lenses. I had been careless from the start, bound into the ways of trusting other implicitly without even caring about my own protection. Everything before me was a test, a way to prove myself for such a horrible error in conduct.

Should I not then strive to correct this? Tearing my optics away from Megatron and the others I glared at the droid. "I ha-a-ave ne-e-e-ded prac-tis."

"Bravado is pointless." Was Cyberquake's only response though now it seemed the others were quieting down, eager for the shed of energon.

It was a simple matter of extracting information from lessons and the few files I had been permitted to download rather than learn mechanically. Pedes bent down slightly and pointed to the droid while arms were held before me, my back relaxed as it could be. And my hands fisted themselves, waiting.

Cyberquake did not keep me waiting long. For a moment he was watching me and then in the next his tendril-arms snaked out and wrapped around my left pede, squeezing. Pain receptors flared everywhere those tendril-arms touched while jolts of raw electricity somehow swarmed between the seams of armor, delving into the sensitive wiring.

I lashed out with my fists, though I touched nothing as Cyberquake's body was too far away, his tendril-arms allowing him to keep his distance. Dimly through the biting pain I could hear cheering and calls to offline me as slowly as possible. And even through that pain I knew I deserved it for having forgotten just what it was they were, and what it was I wanted to be. Was I not forged for the Decepticon cause? I had to prove myself to these soldiers that I was not weak and that I would never again make such disgraceful errors.

The tendril-arms tightened and the power increased, sending a system-wide panic through every single motor function in my lower body. I bellowed in pain even as I grabbed one brightly tendril-arm and yanked. Afterwards all I can say is that my world narrowed only to Cyberquake and those damnable tendril-arms that snaked and wrapped around every limb. They tore at armor, sank into crevices and ripped at seams, nicking energon and coolant lines, inflicting as much damage as possible. Yet I began to love every minute of it as I started to read and predict the droid's movements. The tendril-arms were deadly but they were thin and relied on motion rather than pure brute force.

"You fight with no experience. Have you not downloaded the necessary files on fighting?" Cyberquake intoned though he never once relented in his attacks. I snarled wordlessly, feeling my very coolant bubble with rage at the idea that this droid was besting me…a being built specifically to be a warrior.

"Answer the question." Cyberquake said. And with that his left tendril-arm snaked out faster than I could track it and hit me in the face, coiling around my neck. This time the droid did not let go but rather repeated what he done to my pedes, squeezing my neck slowly. "Answer the question."

"Wh-why?" I managed to gasp, determined I would not cry out at the blinding pain.

"If there was an error in your programming to prevent you from downloading necessary files I wish to find it and eradicate it and thus have a clean CPU for myself."

Evidently the crowd loved this as they began howling, mad with glee over the idea that energon was being spilt. All I cared about however was the fact that he—or rather _it_—had said such a thing.

_How dare it!_ I howled inwardly as my hands grabbed the tendril-arm around my throat. "I…am not glitched!" Something inside my neck cracked, the sound a muffled vibration. With it came a pain unlike even Cyberquake's burning tendril-arms but I was beyond focusing on the pain. Pulling as hard as I could I felt a dark satisfaction when the droid's body was sent crashing to the ground, its other tendril-arm whipping quickly as if to prevent the fall. Without any framework however the tendril-arm was useless and the droid's chassis buckled inward when it hit the ground. The hold around my neck slackened and I used one hand to tug it completely off and drop it. That same burning pain spread to my hands and staring down I gapped at the faint swirls of smoke and the light scraps showing just where I had held the tendril-arms. Young or not, I had read enough about the acid rains of Cybertron to realize just what the pain was caused from.

"Interesting development. The target has corrected the vocal malfunctions." I looked up from the acid burns to watch as Cyberquake twisted its lower body so its legs could gain some purchase and lift itself back up. The droid looked at its dented chassis, a tendril-arm flicking slightly along the imperfections. "Unfortunately I have made the mistake of estimating your strength to be ten percent below my own."

_Rip the droid's legs off…slowly._ I did not balk at the idea whispered to me from the dark voice, my own rage feeling almost alive within my body. The feelings of elation that my voice seemed whole were inconsequential. The fact that Cyberquake was still functioning was the most predominant issue. "What was your purpose for coming online?" I asked the driod.

"Oh don't tell me they're gonna get all emotional!" Someone shouted, clearly upset by the lapse in bodily injury.

"Are you stalling?" Cyberquake asked.

"Certainly not. Stalling would allude to the fact that I have no other tactics." I replied back, struggling not to grin at how wonderful it was to hear my voice without that idiotic jump. There was still a faint bit of static but I was not going to argue.

"Then why ask such an inane question?"

"You have not answered my question." I snapped, growing irritated.

"Less talkin' more bashin'!" someone shouted, though neither one of us even bothered to look at the jeering crowds. Instead the droid tilted its head this way and that before finally giving a slightly shake as if confused. "Your question is illogical but you are an illogical creation. I was designed and built for the sole purpose of deactivating you."

I grinned. "Then I cannot lose."

If anything the driod seemed even more confused, several optic sensors folding in and out of their respective sockets. "What?"

I believe it was still faintly confused when I charged him again. My fists went straight for his head and fragile optics even as those damnable tendril-arms seemed to strip my armor down to circuits. Optic lens shards sparkled as they flew through the air while a faint spatter of energon and lubricant began marring the ground, my fist, and even my face. _Kill it, twist it…make it feel it even if it is nothing more than a driod._

A tendril-arm slipped up my face and went between my dental plates, burning the glossa and sensitive sensors. Screaming, I jerked away, tasting acid, metal, and for the first time ever, energon from my own severed lines. None of the cuts on my glossa were serious but the sheer sensation of tasting half-converted energon was a shock. It tasted old, warmed from being driven throughout my body in it's fuel-to-energy conversion.

"Are you unstable?" Cyberquake asked, three optic sensors nothing more than empty holes in its head with bits of lens sticking out at odd angles. I grinned at it and on impulse I swiped at a droplet of the droid's energon with a finger and lapped it off.

"You must be unstable." Cyberquake said, answering its own question and it sent a thrill through me as the droid backed away a step, unsure of how to proceed.

"No I am not. I am a Decepticon."

"Incorrect. You have no sigil, you have not been indoctrinated. There is no serial…"

"And that matters how?" I spat. "I came online for the sole purpose to be a Decepticon, not just to simply deactivate one single being."

I suppose I should have seen it coming then. I should have realized that the tendril-arms were capable of so much more than a quick acid slash. I was too angry to realize it however so when I felt the tendril-arms lash out as sharp as scalpels between a seam in my left arm I was more shocked than alarmed. It was not until I felt the motor cables and frame break that I screamed but by then Cyberquake had torn my arm nearly completely off. Retracting those damnable tendril-arms I looked down at the remains of my left arm. The limb dangled uselessly from a few wires while other broken wires sparked and all manner of fluids streamed out.

There were howls of approval from the crowd, jeering at me for talking and not fighting.

"Your functions have drastically decreased. Your chances of winning are down by at least thirty percent." Cyberquake droned before stepping closer again even as it cracked one of its tendril-arms in the air threateningly. "Your termination is nearing."

_I cannot have it end like this. I am not even a true Decepticon…_ I thought, horrified by the idea of never being a warrior that struck fear into his enemies.

And what was worse was that I would be killed by a driod who had no sigil of any faction and who held a mockery of sentience. Is that the way I wished to be remembered? Did I wish to be terminated and sent into oblivion where there was no fighting, no glory, and no legendary empire?

Lost to a plane where no one fought and no one struggled?

Oblivion.

Eternal torture.

"…nooo!" I bellowed out from my stupor, energy from desperation flooding into my limbs and optics. By sheer luck alone I dove away from Cyberquake's tendril-arms, feeling the wind of their passing where my neck had been only a moment ago. The tendril-arms were already dipping down to follow and with a cry I pulled my near useless limb off from the few wires that had connected it. Compared with the initial attack, the pain was only marginal. Grinning at the absolute idiocy of it, I threw my arm at Cyberquake with all the strength I had. It was almost comical to watch as the droid's scrambled backwards, losing all of its grace as tendril-arms twisted around to deflect the projectile.

It never even saw me charge straight at it.

I will never forget how our bodies collided in a great upheaval of metal against metal; how I used my functioning arm to wrap around its middle and squeeze tightly. So tightly in fact that I felt the metal begin to give way, coils and armor plating beginning to squeal at the increased pressure. How dare it take from me my right to live and become great! How dare he attempt to kill me. Let it's pathetic excuse of a spark flee to that plane where not a single being fought and all were as one and all held no aspirations for being great.

Evidently the droid could experience some pain if its strange, wailing were anything to go by. It struggled wildly, lashing my back with its tendril-arms until the acid made my nerve relays short out from the burning pain. Faintly I could feel something warm and wet slide down the armor plating of my back and then my legs. I squeezed tighter and the wailing took on a new, frenzied pitch as I heard something in the chassis give.

Someone was shouting to stop the fight now, I had won. I had won. The driod could be used for something else, perhaps in a raid for energon.

Of course I had won, was there ever any doubt? But I detested the mere idea of letting this piece of scrap metal go free to perhaps one day try and kill me again, perhaps once more at the commands of Megatron himself. I moved my head and gazed at Cyberquake's damaged optics and smiled. I suppose from those widened optic sensors, the smile was a garish sight as I could feel energon leak past my lips and down the lower half of my facial plate.

"Whisper my name to Primus. Tell him you are the first of many to be sent by _my_ hand." I rumbled and before anyone could intervene I lifted the body above my head. I ignored the way I could feel coils and lengths of reinforced framework buckle within me as I flung the droid down to the floor. Its ugly head knocked violently against the hard metal, denting it even while its body creaked and glass finally broke, aiding me as I knelt and drove my hand into his chassis, deep into his innards. Cyberquake's last, undulating wail was music to my audials as I tore its main fuel pump free of its body, energon splashing everywhere. Electrical signals sent its body into erratic spasms before even the tendril-arms stiffened and slapped against the floor one last time.

And then the sound of cheering. They were all literally howling at the ruthless display of violence, optics glowing in brutish glee. Even Megatron himself was grinning at my display of disobedience though I already knew that this would be the only time he would allow for such a thing.

But this was to be only the beginning of my true lessons. For what Megatron had planned, I would have to learn even more.

* * *

A/N: Spartan boys began their training at the age of seven through an act of being 'kidnapped' from the homes of their mothers and placed within barracks where they would learn how to become soldiers.


End file.
